Monday, July 23, 2012

Robinson is Two

I can't believe my baby boy is two! We celebrated with a Bubble Guppies-themed birthday party the day before his birthday. The Guppies are his favorites. We just invited a few of our favorite toddler friends over for lunch. It turns out that when a dozen small children are involved, there is no such thing as "low key". Our friend Nick described the scene best as "controlled chaos." It was fun though, and the two hour party went by in the blink of an eye. Thanks to everyone who came, and here are some snapshots of the day for those who couldn't be with us!

I've never made invitations before, but this was actually fun.

Don't ask how long it took to make the bubble curtain or the banner!

Refreshment table with banana pudding, butterscotch blondies, brownies, and Texas Caviar
 I like the idea of this bubble backdrop, but it made for tricky photography lighting, yes?

Bubble and water pistols for the kiddos

Love these boys! So glad Uncle Jay was on hand for the occassion!
...and Kelly Bean too! Love my sissy 

I made this cake with love...and lots of marshmallow fondant!

Family Picture

Pizza was a hit with the kids, and easy on us!

Rob is learning to color in his new Bubble Guppies coloring book
Birthday Brunch at Cowboy Chow the next day
Birthday smiles!

Monday, July 2, 2012

Locks of Laziness

The past twelve months have been pretty action-packed for our family. We've moved (twice), attended my brother's wedding, numerous tot birthday parties, and have stayed busy keeping up with our toddler. In the midst of all this, I let a few things remembering to get a haircut at regular intervals. 

Here's a photo of my hair after my most recent haircut, in November. It's long, right? Well I didn't bother getting a haircut again until MAY. Imagine how much longer my hair grew in six months. You have to imagine, because I sure as hell didn't take pictures!

Since I moved wayyyyy across town, I thought I would try out a new hairstylist in one of the local salons.
I arrive early for my appointment and am greeted by my new stylist, Lindsay. Lindsay has short-and-sassy blonde hair and tattoos that say poetic things about a girl who had the courage to jump and then realized she could fly. Something like that. I stand beside her in stark contrast. My hair, which I normally keep in a ponytail at home, is flowing free and hits at about my waist. She looks like a carefree sort of girl who would be a fan favorite on a reality show. I look Amish. This is not the look for me. Lindsay knows this too, but she will handle this conversation with the care one gives to a Faberge egg. Am I one of those kooky broads who hides behind her mass of hair? Lindsay has no way of knowing, but she knows she doesn't want to upset the crazy hair lady.

Lindsay: [running her hands through my endless strands] want to...keep it long? 
Me: Not exactly. See, I have hairorexia, which is a term I made up. You know how anorexics are skinny, but they think that they're not? Well, my hair gets ridiculously long, but when I look in the mirror, it seems average-length to me, and I think that I just got my hair cut a few weeks ago, but then I look at a calendar and realize that it's been seven months, and maybe I should so something about that.
Lindsay: [nodding slowly] Right?
Me: So yeah, you can cut all this off, I don't care. I mean, don't go crazy, I think it's plain to see I don't have the bone structure to carry off a short hairstyle.
Lindsay: Yes. But you don't really have an attachment to your hair?
Me: Oh, I think I obviously have an attachment to my hair, as evidenced by my thrice yearly haircuts.
Lindsay: Yeah, right.
Me: But you know, if you cut it a little too short, it's no big whoop. I'll probably forget to make another appointment until Christmas.
Lindsay: Great!

I show Lindsay an "inspiration photo" 
Tabatha Coffey says it's a good idea to bring photos to consultations with a new stylist, and who am I to argue with Tabatha?

Me: I figured that since we're already cutting so much hair off, we might as well cut enough to donate.
Lindsay: Oh, that's nice! Have you done that before?
Me: Never. But I figured hey, I let my hair get stupid-long for no reason other than I'm absent-minded and apathetic. Might as well help make a wig for a kid in need while I'm at it.
Lindsay: That's the spirit.
Me: Oh! Another thing, before I forget--I will always ask for bangs. Don't let me have them. They don't work on me.
Lindsay: Got it.

I'm donating my hair to Locks of Love, whose rules dictate that hair be donated in the form of ponytails that are at least ten inches in length. Lindsay sections my hair into two ponytails, but furrows her brow in hesitation about the drastic cut she's about to make. As she runs her fingers down the length of the strands, she cautiously asks:

Lindsay: So, your husband--does he like you to keep your hair long, or wear it a certain way?
Me: Huh? I mean, he prefers long hair over a pixie cut, but he doesn't really care. He's not Jim Bob Duggar or anything. He doesn't require me to wear waterfall bangs and a home perm...
Lindsay: [relieved, mixed with nervous laughter] Oh, good!
I learned a lot from my Locks of Love donation experience:

1. If you wear your hair too long, people will approach you and speak to you like you're some crazy cat lady or a member of a fundamentalist group who believes that Jesus and the dinosaurs walked the earth together. I will never let my hair be that long again.

2. When you chop off a ponytail, the remaining hair will be very crooked, so...

3. Even if you used a ruler to gauge how short your hair will be after you've donated your hair, it will be even shorter.

4. If you don't like your haircut, but you're happy about the cause for which your hair was cut off, you won't really mind enduring the awkward growing-out phase.

The result:
bye bye, hair!

My hair looks nothing like Reese Witherspoon's. To me, it looks like an asymmetrical bubble that I feel compelled to wear pulled back because it looks so odd. I'm not kidding myself, I realize the hairdo pictured above isn't much better. I don't blame Lindsay, because it wasn't her idea to chop off ten inch ponytails. She salvaged my remaining hair as best she could, and just as soon as I have enough hair growth to even out this mess, I'll be back to see her. September. I'm holding myself to that!